New York
by Her Name Is Erika
Summary: New York is way different from California, but you appreciate it. Oneshot. ChaseLola.


**A/N: It's been a while since any oneshot was written from me. I'm also juggling updating the last chapter of Letters To You so look out for that. Anyway, here's one of the plotbunnies that seemed to plague me incessantly these days. It's the ONLY ONE actually. So enjoy. I'm probably gonna lose readers, but I'm fearless like that. **

**Disclaimer: No.**

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Moving out East is probably the best thing you could possibly do for yourself.

There are days where you think about California, and the beaches that is clearly not the scenario for New York. You think about that warm early October morning. It's really not intentional, but sometimes you think about it, and you ponder the outcome. You become apprehensive to even end the relationship because of the outcome, but you take a risk and do it anyway. You think that breaking up will crush, and even shatter you, but this isn't the case at all.

"Zoe, I don't know how to tell you this, but I've been thinking about us…and even though I didn't think it was a mistake for us to date, but I do think that we can't do the long-distance relationship thing anymore and – "

"I know."

"— you must think I'm a terrible person for dropping this on you and…" you stop mid-ramble, walking around NYU's campus as the leaves on the trees are changing colour and some of them crunch under your Converse shoes. You're an adult of sorts and a Chucks dork. But your face is swarming is complete and utter confusion. "Wait, what did you say?"

You hear her chuckle lightly on the other end, "I said, I know. Meaning, I get it, Chase. Things are changing between us, and just changes in general. I'm in California with Logan and Quinn, and Vince and Lola broke up, making him move to Florida for his football thing. Michael and Lisa moved down South together so they could be closer to home, and you're out East with Lola. Even Dustin's doing his own thing at PCA. I don't regret the relationship we had at all, but I value our friendship more than anything else. The last two years of being your girlfriend were great, though. Can we at least have that, Chase?"

You feel the weight of guilt being removed from your conscience and you picture her understanding smile. That's why you love her – maybe, not in the romantic sense, as this is your newest epiphany – but now you can sleep easier because truthfully you hold friendship quite close to your heart as well.

Friendship really does matter greatly to you, so with a sigh of relief, you feel your lips turn up slightly in a smile because now you can really address what you've put on hold for quite some time.

"Yes, Zoey. I'd love to be friends with you," you reply, and then add with a laugh. "Well, again."

.

.

.

"Come on, Chase, it's Halloween. You can't possibly do school work on Halloween!"

The brunette pouts, and your heart lands in your stomach, before bouncing up into your throat. It's those big, beautiful – her eyes are beautiful, and you mentally kick yourself for not noticing before – brown eyes.

You take a sip of your coffee with a couple hits of chocolate. That's as close to Halloween candy as you're getting. Your fingers naturally travel back to the keyboard, and least there's one thing that benefits from your continuous typing. It shouldn't matter but at least you have flexible pinkies, right? She pushes her bottom lip out slightly, as she tries to get you into her snare. These days, you find that she bats those eyelashes of hers, and you can't help but be entrapped. Not that you mind it.

"Oh, come on. Don't look at me like that…"

"Please. It'll be fun," she tries to reason, and her eyes light up. "We'll go trick-or-treating."

You can't help but laugh good-naturedly, "We're a bit too old for that, don't you think?"

This report is monstrous itself. If that doesn't cause him to pull an-nighter, only to wake up with dark circles under his eyes, and slightly incoherent speech, then he really doesn't know the meaning of scary anymore.

"No person is old for the Halloween spirit. Since, I know you would like to stay home instead of going candy hunting with me. I came up with a plan B," she explains, and knowing that you're easily freaked out by clowns and Elmo, you smile when you recognize she remembers that you're a horror movie fanatic nonetheless, and a good horror movie will be the right thing.

"How do you know me so well?"

"Ah, that's easy. I could say I've known you since the ninth grade, but I'm actually psychic," she answers, with mock seriousness, and then breaks out into giggles. You find her giggles so melodious and contagious that you can't help but laugh with her. She raises an eyebrow, wagging the DVD covers of four of mutual favourites. "Let's get watching. If the monsters freak me out, then I'll have you to protect me, right?"

You close your laptop cover down, your report forgotten. You're almost finished, and you've saved them anyhow. Allowing Lola's soft hands to mingle with yours, you feel the heat going to your face in three seconds flat. You pray she doesn't take notice of your slightly reddened cheeks as her grip on your hands is still the same.

"Of course," you reply, a grin making its way onto your features.

And you happily oblige to devote your time to her because she's worth it. You want to.

Suddenly halfway into the third movie, you realize that your chocolate tinted coffee has gone cold and the laptop sits in a corner of your desk charging while in standby mode.

Nothing, however, beats the fact that Lola is asleep peacefully on your shoulder looking content and the jasmine scented shampoo from her chestnut hair wafts past your nose.

"Happy Halloween, Lola," you whisper, and feeling brave, you place an almost intangible kiss in her hair.

Fictional psychopaths on a killing spree can't beat how angelic she's looking at this very moment.

.

.

.

On this November evening, New York City is bustling and alive with activity.

The temperature is frigid, so you settle on a sweater and a jacket. The green scarf you're wearing around your neck also adds warmth. It makes the cold seem so trivial even though your breath comes out as little puffs of smoke every time you exhale.

"Because it matches your eyes," she admits with a smile when she explains the reasoning behind said scarf and you smile back, offering her your arm and she takes it. You almost swear you see tinges of pink spread across her cheeks, making her cheeks rosy, but as you quickly as you can blink, it fades and you dismiss it as your psyche screwing with you. "You ready to take New York City on?"

You find her excitement and bubbly nature funny. Maybe even kind of cute.

"Lead the way, Lola."

Her cheeks are flushed with tinges of pink from the cold air around the both of you, as she remains linked to you arm-in-arm. Walking around, you spot Times Square and the sounds of soft strings and guitars catch both of your attentions. The world around you is busy. There's a little girl that cries at the loss of her beloved dolly before she gets it back, brightening immediately. Another couple is celebrating as the male gets up on his knee, and the female kisses her future husband passionately before flouncing off hand-in hand.

You lead her to Time Square, the soft strings getting louder and louder with every step you take towards it. Well, it's more like her leading _you_ – but it's okay, until she grabs your hands in her warm, soft hands. What are these newly awakened feelings that seem to stir in you? Your heart pounds so hard that you're afraid that it'll jump out of your chest and land onto the ground below?

"The course of true love never did run smooth," plays in his head over while the sky is littered with stars. Maybe, it's what he has to do. You wonder what love would be like the second time around. Maybe love is _better_ the second time around. Maybe. Just maybe. But the word maybe makes your head hurt ever so slightly with irritation.

Her laughter makes that instant go away, and you're attentive to her, "Chase, let's dance."

"Okay, clearly you haven't been informed on my rhythm…"

Lola looks at you and then pretends to look around her, as if searching for something, "Rhythm? What rhythm?"

You know it's in harmless jest, but you fake a hurt look, "Ouch. That was below the belt, Lola."

"I kid," she pats your upper arm, before placing your hands on her slender waist. Her brown eyes are shiny, and full of playful teasing. "I wasn't kidding about dance with me at Times Square."

The strings stops, starting up a Celine Dion song you remember Lola singing absentmindedly. You smile at her as she wraps her arms around your neck, and you pull her in. Suddenly, it's not so cold. The air doesn't seem so biting and frigid, but warm and soothing.

"Don't know about your life, don't know much about your world. Don't wanna be alone tonight on this planet they call Earth…" Celine Dion sings with the help of speakers.

You swear this is some divine intervention, but your head is way too deep in this to focus on the things around you. Your body which tenses at first is now relaxed, for once listening to your brain's commands. Her head is resting on your shoulder again, and you're swaying to the music. You ignore everything – the weatherman's forecast of upcoming snow, the lecture by your journalism professor. Everything.

Maybe the song is right. Maybe you should just jump over the edge, and see what happens. Maybe you should just dive in with both feet and not even bother to question it twice. Sighing, you feel her move a little just so that she can face you. You lock eyes, and that's when you know.

You know your gut is telling you to go for it. And like any other guy, your gut feeling has never been wrong.

You decided you're going to take the risk. You're already dancing publicly at Times Square. It doesn't get any risk-taking than that.

"Celine Dion is right…" you tell her, pulling Lola in by the waist gently. She looks confused, but laughs at your choice of words.

"Chase, what do you mean?"

"I mean," you clarify, and brush a stray hair away from her eyes. "Celine Dion is right in the sense that we need to take risks in life. Lola, I love living out here with you. We both have a lot of things in common too. For one, we were both born in this part of the country. You, in New York City, and me, in Boston, Massachusetts. I love living here out East with you. When I'm with you, I have fun and I like the laughter and good times we share. Sure, we had those at PCA too, but I'll treasure these slightly more. And I want that to continue…" you pause, and smile that boyish smile of yours before speaking again. "…if you'd only be my girlfriend."

Lola looks down, and sighs, her breath being display in a small puff of air. She locks eyes with you, as if she's trying to read beyond outward appearances. It's like she's trying to read you from the inside out, and you hold your breath. Oh, God. Here comes that frigid air, and biting cold feeling.

Slowly but surely, her vibrant smile grows on her face, and before you can even allow a word to escape you, she pulls your face to face, meeting you halfway with awaiting lips. Your eyes flutter shut, relaxing into the kiss. You take every moment to savour it, and enjoy it. Your heart's racing, but with the best Lola-inducing adrenaline. She wraps her arms securely around your neck, and you slip an arm around her waist, making her smile while her lips mesh with yours.

"Aw, that's so cute!" a teenager gushes to her best friend. Or so you hear.

"Ah, young love. It's beautiful," you hear an old lady say dreamily, and then scolds her husband. You blush. "Now, why can't you be like that, Ronald? There's someone who knows how to romance a lady."

You wish she could rain more pineapple flavoured – it's the lip gloss that make her lips so inviting, and sparkly with a soft pink, yet natural touch – kisses on you, but a cold sensation drops downward on your nose, and sure enough, it snows.

"Oh, wow. It's snowing," Lola points out, allowing the small white flakes to tickle her hands before she intertwines with yours. "We could be a snowman tomorrow before Thanksgiving, but I think I'd rather spend time with my boyfriend."

"And the boyfriend would be honoured," you reply, a gentle kiss to her lips once more.

You walk home with mutually rosy cheeks, and steal silent but loving glances as the snow falls gently.

New York is way different from California, but you appreciate it more.

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**A/N: And there it is. I'm not happy with it, but I've twisted it every way I could. I did this in stages, so don't think that right after Choey's breakup that he just went after Lola. Nope. Not the case. Read on. I'm sorry if it wasn't my best, I tried so hard. Excuse any grammatical stuff you may catch. After all, I'm human and I'm make mistakes too. **

**Writing this has made me love Chola even more now! Spread the Chola love, people.**

**Review and tell me what you think. **

**-Erika**


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